I Am Chosen

Unwelcome Guest

Kacey was exhausted.

There had barely been enough time for her to unbag her groceries when she was called in on some bizarre new homicide. This time a young girl had been dragged out of a drive through window and run over by a truck.

The kid working with the young woman heard the truck driver say "I am chosen" before he grabbed her.

After running her over, witnesses said the driver got out, walked over as if to make sure she was dead, then just sat down right there in the parking lot, his truck still running.

When Kacey had arrived he was in the back of a squad car and just as with all the other Chosen killers, he was a drooling, insensate, blank-eyed space case.

Inside the crime-scene perimeter had been the girl's gruesome remains. Her skull had split apart, its contents slashed over the blacktop like an artist's brush stroke.

Kacey had collected evidence, interviewed witnesses, filled out paperwork... but unfortunately this latest killing seemed like the others: no motive and nothing obvious connecting the victims.

It was all enough to give her one whopper of a headache. Images of the poor girl's gray matter smeared across the asphalt had refused to be pushed aside as she had driven home, and they lingered even now as she ascended to the fifth floor in her apartment elevator.

She stepped out and rounded the corner to the sound of Mrs. Beesley's dog barking. The woman was just closing her apartment door. The dog—one of those little terrier things—was barking at a man standing just a few feet down the hall. It was Hanson, having obviously just come from Kacey's apartment.

Oh I am so not in the mood.

Hanson offered a smile and a small wave. Kacey had to admit, he looked good. Curly dark hair, rugged, sharp features, soulful brown eyes. He was wearing the trench coat that Kacey always loved on him.

Snap out of it.

"If you want your mug back you're in for disappointment," she said.

Mrs. Beesley's dog kept on as the woman fished in her purse. Arp! Arp! Arp!

"I just wanted to talk to you," Hanson said over the noise of the mutt.

"Look, we've been through this..."

Arp! Arp! Arp!

Mrs. Beesley turned to her dog. "Coco! Stop!"

"I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry," Hanson continued.

"Sorry about what?" Kacey asked.

Arp! Arp! Arp!

Mrs. Beesley's dog had never barked at Hanson before. Kacey anticipated the words before they left her ex-boyfriend's mouth.

"I am Chosen," he said and reached into the left side of his trench coat.

Without hesitation Kacey darted sideways and in front of Mrs. Beesley, spinning the doorknob. She shouldered the door open, dragged the old woman through, then yanked the leash to get Coco in. Just as she slammed the door and pulled her neighbor to the side, three slugs punched through the wood and shattered the glass of the sliding door across the apartment that led to the balcony.

Mrs. Beesley's apartment layout was much like Kacey's, just reverse. To the immediate right of the entry as you walked in was the bathroom, to the left, the kitchen. Kacey and the old woman were already on the right side of the door so Kacey rushed both of them into the bathroom and locked them in. The old woman had dropped the leash though.

"Coco!" She yelled.

"Forget the dog!" Kacey yelled back. Coco was still barking up a storm as a cacophony of crashing and splintering sounds signaled that Hanson had smashed his way through the front door.

A fourth gunshot sounded. Coco's barking stopped. Mrs. Beesley screamed.

Kacey shoved her hysterical neighbor into the bathtub and dodged to the side as four more bullets shredded the wood next to her.

Those bullets were followed by the gun hand of Hanson, jabbing through the opening. Kacey grasped the wrist with both hands, spun so her back was to the door, rotated the arm and positioned Hanson's elbow just above her left shoulder.

Then with one forceful, explosive motion she yanked down. There was a snapping, crackling sound as Hanson's elbow hyperextended. The injury was accompanied by no cry of pain, however, as Kacey wrested the automatic from her ex-boyfriend's grip.

The arm withdrew. Kacey unlocked and pulled open what was left of the door. As quickly as she cleared the doorway, though, weapon ready, Hanson was quicker. He had waited and pounced in an instant, forcing her backward where she nearly tripped over the dead form of Coco. Though she had the presence of mind to spin Hanson around, their tussle sent his gun flying across the room.

They were now back at the entry, still moving, pummeling, shifting. Hanson was thick, all muscle, and though his left arm dangled at his side, moving him was like trying to off-balance a tree trunk. Kacey locked onto Hanson's eyes. What she saw there was the same non-expression, the same dead mask that Doctor Faulkner had worn. The Hanson that Kacey had known, had bedded, had let into her life... was gone.

As if to drive this point home, he threw a vertical elbow that caught her on the chin and damn near knocked her out. Dazed, she fell on her ass. With that same blank gaze, Hanson gripped his left elbow, adjusted and then flexed that arm, seeming to get it back into some kind of functional state.

Vaguely, Kacey was aware of Mrs. Beesley's wails coming from the bathroom as she scrambled back onto her feet and pulled her own gun from its holster. Hanson closed the distance, grasped her gun hand with his left and twisted.

Kacey bit back a cry of pain as her ex boyfriend wrenched the gun from her. She stumbled away from the front door into the kitchen, arms and hands outstretched. Thankfully it was her left hand that brushed across the handle of a small slicing knife on the counter.

As Hanson raised his right hand and leveled Kacey's own gun at her forehead, she swung her left arm in a horizontal arc, burying the knife to the hilt halfway up her ex's forearm.

Hanson dropped the gun but his left hand shot out and closed around the lapel of Kacey's jacket. Kacey's left hand gripped the lapel of his trench and once again the two grappled... back to the entryway where Kacey head-butted Hanson, knocking him into the door's remains. In answer, Hanson shot out a thrusting kick that set Kacey on her heels, arms pinwheeling as she stumbled backward. Hanson charged forward and thrust a palm heel into Kacey's chest, driving her through the living room, into what remained of the glass door and out onto the small balcony where her back slammed into the metal railing.

Removing the knife from his arm, Hanson rushed forward, blade raised.

Kacey pushed off of the railing and steadied herself, hoping her right hand would cooperate. This was it: the timing would either be perfect or she'd be dead.

Just as Hanson drew close enough Kacey grasped Hanson's wrist, shot her right arm under his armpit, spun and rolled Hanson over her hips... executing a textbook ippon seoi nage and tossing her one-time boyfriend over the railing.

The eeriest thing about Hanson's comet-like descent was that he didn't utter a single sound as he plummeted five stories to his death.

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A lot of logistics and choreography involved in this scene, but that's some of the most fun stuff for me to write. Thank you all for your comments and votes and reads. This chapter is dedicated to Lady777 for being a fantastic supporter of my work. Thanks Lady777! See you all in one week!